


Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me

by BrightDream



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Dystopian Future, Erik has Issues, M/M, Me trying to write DOFP, Mentions of Character Death, Mentions of Concentration Camp, Old mutants in love, Post - X-Men: The Last Stand (2006), me trying to english
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightDream/pseuds/BrightDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post The Last Stand (and based in what we know about DOFP):</p>
<p> Ever since San Francisco, Erik has been living in the apartment that Charles bought them years ago.<br/>Until a dream and a visitor bring him back in the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about DOPF the other day and suddenly I got all these ideas. I had to write down this scene, as it was driving me crazy. Here you go.
> 
> Title stolen from 'The Scientist' by Coldplay, because a) I suck at titles and b) this song should be in the movie.

It’s December and the nights are getting colder and colder each day that passes.

Erik sighs and gets below his red blankets, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. He can see the snow outside the window, falling quickly against the glass, and only imagine how cold it really is outside.

Erik learnt to hate the cold when he was a child, that is, when he lost his parents and was trapped in that awful, dark place. Auschwitz was never warm enough, not _once_ , and he can still remember Magda trembling in the Polish Winter and the white snow tinted by his red blood after Schmidt had had his fun.

Erik gulps down his hot chocolate and stares down at his arm. The numbers have faded through time, but he can still see them quite clearly.

_“It’s starting all over again”_ Tina told him the other day _“They tattoo mutants now, bar codes, not numbers. Bar codes, can you fucking believe it-...”_

Erik can.

He covers his arm with his sleeve and resolutely tries not to think how cold it must be in the Mutant Camps right now.

_I told you, Charles, I told you this would happen,_ he thinks sadly, for perhaps the thousandth time since this all started.

There is no answer, though, and there won’t be, because Charles has been dead for eleven months now.

Erik huffs and sets his mug on the table next to the bed. It’s still too early to sleep, but it’s dark and cold outside and he has become an old man. Erik is tired, very tired, so he lies down on the bed and turns off the lamp with a flick of his wrist. 

He shouldn’t be here.

He is old, yeah, and his powers are still very weak compared to what they were before the Cure, but he’s still Magneto, still a symbol and a leader. He should be out there fighting with the little resistance that still exists, but he isn’t.

He is here, a useless coward that drinks hot chocolate and warms inside his blankets while people freeze in the Mutant Camps.

After San Francisco he had hid here, in the New York apartment Charles had bought them so many years ago. It was the only option, as Charles was dead, Mystique was human and virtually everyone that he once knew was against him.

It wasn’t a plan that was supposed to last eleven months, but well, it's not as if he could have predicted what would happen after.

What had happened had been the unthinkable: Trask Industries,  Sentinels and, oh my God, Camps all over again. Erik had watched in absolute shock and disgust, but his powers were still too week and he had no contacts left. A lot of the X Men had been caught on the first week, the rest had hid somewhere, and he didn’t know where to find people from the Brotherhood either.

He had lied low, then, expecting something to happen, something to change, but things just... Didn’t. So he stayed in the small apartment, taking his time and sleeping in Charles’ favorite blankets, too lost on melancholy.

He _can_ do something now, though. He has met someone, Tina, a girl that has contacts in the Resistance.

Tina is a twenty two year old girl who lives in the building. She is a human and treats Erik as if he is her old and crazy grandpa, but she is sympathetic to the cause, because her little brother is one of those imprisoned in the Mutant Camps. She has implied a million times that he should go out and do something, _anything_ , but for some reason he doesn’t want to.

It’s so very strange, and he can’t explain it, but some days it’s almost like something is holding him back here, keeping him from leaving.

Erik rolls to the side and tries to suppress these thoughts.  For now all he wants is to sleep, because in sleep he can at least forget his sadness, his regrets and insecurities. Nightmares have followed him all these years, but he has been so tired lately that he has been sleeping strangely well.

To fall sleep, he recalls old memories, happy memories. That time he lit candles with his mother, the day Anya was born, he and Charles in this very same bed...

_“You loved my gift, admit it”_

_“It’s not that I didn’t like it, Charles, but an apartment?”_

_“You know perfectly well that I can afford it.  It’s not just for your sake, of course. Now we don’t have to go to hotels every time, we can just come here and-“_

_“I gave you a pen your last birthday and you give me an apartment?”_

_“Yeah, but...”_

The Sun filters through the window as Charles continues to speak. His hair is long and messy and he has grown a beard, something that Erik likes much more than he thought he would.

The blanket is red, the ceiling is a soft yellow and Erik’s blue shirt is on the floor somewhere, next to Charles' wheelchair.

“Erik?”

Erik turns his head to Charles. He is leaning over one elbow, looking at him expectantly. Erik can see everything in detail, the Sun across his face, his shoulder freckles, his nipples and chest hair, his strong arms, his-

“Are you ignoring me?” Charles says amusedly and his smile is the most beautiful thing Erik has ever seen.  But Erik doesn’t answer, of course, this is a memory, he shouldn’t have to answer, but that’s strange, isn't it?

He lifts a hand slowly and touches Charles’ face, feels his rough beard and watches as Charles closes his eyes and sighs.

“Oh, love”

Well, _this_ never happen, Erik is a hundred percent sure of it, because Charles didn’t use to call him love back then. Charles only started to call him love much later, around the 90’s, when they had both stopped pretending that they weren’t completely crazy for each other.

_Okay, if this is not a memory then, it must be a dream_ , Erik concludes. _And if it is a dream, I can do whatever I want._

He wants to try out this exciting thought, so he moves closer, presses his and Charles’ chest together. It’s so vivid, he can feel Charles’ skin as if it was real, his warmth, his scent, his...-

Erik kisses him, his neck and shoulders, his beard and his mouth, finally his mouth, and Charles answers in the exact way he used to, kissing him back, pressing him closer, fingers in his hair.

It’s perfect and _real_ , Erik can taste him, oh my God...

He pulls back for air and closes his eyes, can feel Charles drying the wetness in his face with the palm of his hand.

“This is the best illusion I’ve ever had” he whispers quietly.

Charles chuckles.

“Oh, I’m quite real, my friend”

Erik doesn’t think too much of this, of course. Charles is a character in his dream; of course he would try to convince him he isn’t.

“Whatever you say”

Charles laughs out loud now, rests his head on Erik’s chest.

“I never thought I would hear this from you, but anyway, I really appreciate it”

Erik doesn’t answer, he just holds Charles closer, lets himself feel every little bit of Charles’ skin against his. It’s too much, too little, he misses Charles so much...

“Why it had to be this way?” he asks, because he wants to, because it’s his dream, dammit “It shouldn’t have been like this, Charles, it should have been you and me, it should...-”

“I know”

“It’s so messed up now, you have no idea.  Everything we fought for, _everything_ , it was all for nothing. So many dead, so many imprisoned, and I’m alone...”

Charles caresses his hair protectively. He doesn’t exist, he’s just an illusion that Erik created, and it’s ridiculous that Erik is venting to him, but he can’t help it.

Sentinels, Trask, his solitude, he’s near the breaking point, and if before he used to look for Charles to fix him, now it’s no exception.

“I understand, darling.” Charles says “I’m so, so sorry, but don’t give up. Not everything is yet lost.”

That is... Strange.

Erik has given up a long, long time ago, and if he has, shouldn’t his illusion of Charles act the same? He should comfort him, of course, but this certainty, this determination...

He pulls away from Charles’ embrace, searching for his eyes. But Charles has changed. His beard is gone, his hair is gone, now he’s bald and old, although just as beautiful.

Erik lifts a hand to his own face and touches many lines and wrinkles. A dream can change very quickly, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s what happened.

He feels something in his chest, something warm and magnificent. It’s hope, a hope so huge and bright that he feels a little dizzy.

“Charles?” His voice breaks.

Charles’ smile opens up.

“Yes, darling?”

“Is it...- You..?”

“Yeah, it’s really me.  

As to prove it, he kisses Erik, intimate and warm and delicious, and when he pulls back, the entire scenery has changed. They are in a meadow now, a sunny meadow, and they are both on his feet.

"But this is... It's a dream. I was in bed, you're not really here..." 

"Of course it's a dream, silly. But I'm not part of it. I'm here with you, you know, telepathically" 

“How..? I saw you die, I...”

Charles shrugs. 

 “I don’t understand as well. Hank has his theories, but now it's not the time.”

It is for Erik. He has a thousand questions, everything is spinning too quickly and he doesn’t know if he can believe this or not. It may still be an illusion, a trick of his brain, or another telepath, who knows?

But Charles joins their fingers together and pulls Erik’s hand for a kiss. In the sunny meadow, Erik can see something shining and as soon as he notices it with his eyes he notices it with with his powers. It's a ring, a metal ring, which sings to him in his left hand. There's an exact match on Charles' finger.

Erik gasps.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I would like us to be together” Charles says, “I told you, not everything is lost. I have a plan, but I need you for it.  As somebody that I know said it once, I need you by my side.” He smiles even brighter. “It means that this is a proposal, to work together, of course, but not only for that”

Erik can't believe this is happening. 

“How do I know that this is even real?”

Charles gets closer, kisses him once again. This time is soft, soft as the wind that blows on Erik’s face.

“Wake up and see” Charles whispers against his mouth.

Suddenly the wind gets stronger, the Sun stops shining. But Erik doesn’t want to wake up, he is afraid; he holds on to Charles, holds on so thight, everything is spinning, again and again...

_Let go_

Erik wakes up panting, gripping the blankets so hard that his fingers are white.

He looks around.

The snow falls outside, the clock ticks on the wall and the hot chocolate mug is still on the table next to the bed. Everything is the same, exactly the same...

He waits completely still on the bed, expecting something to happen, something to change. Charles told him it would, so if it doesn’t it means it was just a dream, just an illusion.

The idea tastes bitter in his mouth.

Erik rolls to the other side of the bed and punches the pillow. He tries to keep his tears inside, but the hope that burned bright a few moments ago now feel like a knife deep inside his heart.

For a moment there he had actually thought that-

A knock on the door startles him.

Erik jumps from the bed, runs to the apartment door. No one knows he lives here, no one, so it must be...-

He opens the door. The person on the other side is absolutely the last one he was expecting.

“ ‘Night, Magneto”

“Get inside” Erik groans, pulling him inside with his powers and closing the door. “How did you know I was here?”

The mutant smiles and lowers his hood, although Erik knew who he was right from the start. A skeleton with this much metal is hard not to notice.

“The Professor asked me to fetch you” Logan says.

Erik feels his heart race.

"I don't agree with him, but whatever. He told me you would be expecting it" 

“Are you trying to trick me, Wolverine?”

Logan shakes his head.

“Of course not, bub”

So that is it. This is how he’ll left this apartment and get back to the fight. By the side of the X-Men. By Charles’ side.

“Let me pack my things”

He grabs a few change of clothes in the bedroom, scribbles a note for Tina.

_“Don’t worry, I’m back in the game”_ It reads.

He finds Logan in his kitchen, drinking his scotch and it all feels surreal.

“Ready?”

He is. He has been for a while now, but something was holding him back here. Now he understands. He was waiting, waiting for Charles’ call.

He remembers a sunny meadow and metal singing in their finger. For the first time in many months, he smiles.

“Let’s go”

Somewhere, Charles is waiting for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and I don't have a beta reader, so I'm sorry for the mistakes.


End file.
